Sunday, May 28, 2006
But, by the time we got to Lorane, we were all soaked to the bone. And the descent down Fox Hollow back into town was bitter cold. Overall, it would have been nice if the weather had been better, but it was an epic ride nonetheless. And the motel had a hot tub when we got back...and that made everyone's day.
Sunday it looks like it's still wet on the ground, but the weather forecast is predicting only a 30% chance of showers, so I think today is a day for Cottage Grove instead of Shotgun. It wouldn't be fun to ride that hill in wet, slippery, miserable conditions.
Two of the kids Dave Campbell coaches won Oregon state championship track titlesward last night. While Randall, John and I were luxuriating in the hot tub/sauna, Campbell ran over to Hayward field (in the rain) to watch his kids run. Excellent end to a nice day.
I felt fantastic on the bike. Still - obviously - lacking in base miles, which was very apparent on the climbs, but my legs felt fantastic on Wolf Creek II and on the flats leaving Lorane...all the way to the base of Fox Hollow. Which makes me very hopeful for later this summer.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Hmmmm...let me think about that for one second: I think I'll go for a ride or four. Maybe take the bike out on some tasty Lane County roads, partake of some delicious Coast Range scenery, and enjoy the company of three excellent friends.
Maybe have a McMenamin's Rubinator or two.
Yeah, that sounds good.
See you all in 12 hours!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
I met John on a mtn bike ride in the mid-summer of 2000, on a mtn bike ride near our old house in Springfield. John was a mountain biker, period. As best I recall, he had no use for a road bike. He was (and is) more talented on a mtn bike than I could ever hope to be, and he was as fit as riding in NoVa required. He regularly schooled me on mtn bike rides....and he did it with ease.
I don't really remember how or when he decided to get a road bike. But, the first thing I do remember about John and his "road bike" is that it was an abomination to the term. It was an aluminum GT with a triple crankset and it was the damn ugliest thing I had ever laid eyes on. But, it had skinny 700c tires, and it went uphill better than a mtn bike. So, we rode together. I was desperate for normal company, which, in D.C. was in short supply. John was more than normal, he was cool. But, don't get me started on the ills of this area...just don't.
The second thing I remember about that bike is taking John for his first real "mountain" ride up Thornton Gap, and having John nearly lose his lunch on, what he will now readily admit, is a pretty standard climb. O.K., O.K., he did pass a rotting deer carcus, but still...
Anyways, over the course of the next several years, John progressed from total novice, to accomplished roadie. Shaved legs and all. During that time, I tried to do for John what Campbell had done for me so many years prior in Eugene: act as an encourager, a low-key guide to the intricacies of enjoying a road bike. I can happily report that it worked. John has turned himself into a damn fine roadie. In fact, the idea that John is so comfortable on a road bike, is one of the bigger reasons why I'm so eager for him to meet the Oregon contingent.
Anyways, the first time I knew I had a true roadie convert on my hands was back in 2001 at the Seagull Century. The Seagull Century is, as the name implies, a 100-mile ride near the beach in Maryland. The Seagull was John's first century. And, actually, the ride consisted of me, my awesome wife Jacqueline (on her first century) and John, (on his). And, the reason I'm recounting this story here, is because I think you can tell a lot about a roadie by his (or her) reaction to their first century. If they like it, then you've got a roadie on your hands. If they don't, then...well, you don't.
Anyways, by the time we rolled around to mile 80 (after a brief lunch at mile 60) John and Jacqueline were settling in to the pace and distance quite well. But, if we were going to make the 5 hour cut-off, we were going to have to pick up the pace. I was confident that everyone knew how to draft, so I started to gently increase the pace, until (as we passed mile 85) we were doing a steady 25 mph. Believe me, after 85 miles, motoring along at 25 takes some effort. And for the next 15 miles John and I traded pulls at a steady 25/26 mph. pace, with Jacqueline sitting behind us in the draft, gutting it out like a real stud-ette. As we rolled back to where we had parked the cars, John noticed that his cyclocomputer registered 98 miles, instead of an even 100. And as Jacqueline and I chilled out, replenished our water, and started to decompress after 5 hours on the bike, John rode an extra 2 miles, until he had his century.
And that's how I knew I had turned Mr. Simon into a roadie, once and for all.
Oh, and sometime before the Seagull, John went out and bought himself a real road bike. A Landshark. A Landshark with the most beautifully intricate, deep, complex, paintjob I have ever seen on a bike. Bar none. If you like the picture, you should see it in person. It's stunning.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Ten years ago, whenever I rode up Fox Hollow on my way out of town I would pass this series of small, conspicuous signs sitting up on the bank of the road, spaced at 50 foot intervals. They were tiny billboards, really... Each mini billboard held two or three words from some ad campaign from the 50's (I suspect) and the ads always had something to do with shaving cream or razors, or some masculine-related grooming product. It always took a reasonable amount of effort to string together the words to form the sentence. You couldn't see them all at once, and they usually had some ridiculous rhyming jingle.
I don't know who owned the signs, or if he ever intended for anyone to notice them for they were far too small for anyone but a cyclist or a pedestrian to notice. But, the chance that you'd find a cyclist or a pedestrian that far up that road was, if not remote, then certainly not highly probable. And whoever the collector was, he was busy, because the signs changed quite frequently.
Actually, these signs were located just below "Bill's Bench". I'll have to check and see if they're still there.
The long-awaited vacation to the Pingellian Sufferfest is about to begin. I'm really looking forward to it this year. Last year, as I wrote below, I had no idea what to expect -except a flood of memories from ten years ago. This year, I have all the memories from one year ago - and that's making me really anxious. Last year wasn't just as good as I had hoped, it was better. Much better. The friendships I had wondered about were as solid as ever. The camaraderie was superb...it was just three guys hanging out riding ourselves silly and catching up on each other's lives. It is a true blessing (for me, anyways) to have friendships like these. Friends you can live across the country from, not hear from for 5 years, and then meet up again and glide right back into the comfort of knowing you're hanging with life-long friends. The foundation never changes.
Eugene, too, seemed completely unchanged...almost like I had entered some strange time warp. On several rides I had intense memories come flooding back. For instance, there's this one stretch of Erickson Road that is paved with a particular pea gravel and tar substance that is unlike any other road in Eugene. Why is it different? I have no idea. But, ten years ago, the tar used to melt on hot days and when you rode a bike over it, the tar would make these little "pop" noises. On our first day last year, Randall and I turned down Erickson (it was 92 degrees) and when I heard the popping it was almost like hearing a chorus of voices welcoming me home: "Welcome back to all the wonderful, glorious roads you used to love....we've been waiting so long for you to come back...."
But that wasn't the only road that had a deja-vu effect on me, nor was it the first time I'd experienced an incredible coincidence on the roads around Eugene. Let me explain.
Back in 1978 my parents were looking for a way to get out of California. I didn't know it until many years later, but one of the places they looked into was Eugene. My parents never ultimately moved out of San Diego, and they never really talked about all the places they had looked...although, they had taken my brother and me on a house-hunting trip that year. Being 8 at the time, I had no recollection of it by the time I chose to go to college at the UofO ten years later. Anyways, to make a long story short, one day during my freshman year, I was riding up Fox Hollow Road and was overwhelmed by deja vu. I could not figure out why. To my recollection, I had never been to Eugene, and I had certainly never been to this remote section of Fox Hollow Road. After telling my folks what had happened, my Dad confirmed that they had looked at a house on Fox Hollow Road in 1978....and it was the same house I was in front of earlier in the week.
Not the world's biggest coincidence...just another indication of how special Eugene has been for me over the years.
p.s. The bikes were hand delivered to the lovely folks at FedEx at 3 p.m. today. Keep an eye out for them, Randall!
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The terrain is almost endlessly varied, and the only thing truly missing is mountain passes.
Last night the reality of Eugene finally set in. Mainly because until now everything had been planning, with no activity required. I haven't had to DO anything to get ready, other than make plans.
Starting last night I had to pick up a bike box, get all the bike packing gear, gather and clean all my cogsets, tools, and assorted junk, and start to put everything in place. Whew, there's a lot to do. Basically, I have to be completely packed by Tuesday night (TONIGHT!) because the bikes get shipped tomorrow and I have to put a majority of my cycling-related junk inside the bike box! That makes for lean travel on Friday, but it also means I have to get organized...like right now.
Add to that the Tuesday night ride I'm doing tonight, and I'm looking at being busy well into the evening.
On Friday, the flight leaves IAD (Dulles) at 6:05 p.m. and arrives in PDX at 8 p.m. We'll be riding the old roads before we know it.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Got one good ride in this weekend. The bike gets packed up on Tuesday, after the local Tuesday nighter. Then, Wednesday morning it gets picked up by FedEx for it's luxury next-day delivery to Randall's spectacular house.
Last night I made one change to the set-up that I'm looking forward to testing out. I've been riding a pair of Dura Ace "SPD-R" pedals for several years now (lower picture). I switched to those from a pair of Campy Chorus "Look-style" pedals that were fantastic, but I loaned them out to a kid on a local cycling club and never saw them again.
Anyways, last night I "borrowed" my wife's new Dura-Ace pedals (top picture) and spent an hour or so getting the cleats fitted on my shoes and tweaking the adjustment. They're so much nicer. They feel more like my old Campys....which is a very good thing. The platform feels much bigger, and my foot feels like it's further down "in" the pedal, instead of "on" the pedal. It's surprising how much difference such a seemingly small thing like the size of the pedal/shoe platform can make in how secure a pedal feels. The SPD-Rs are not that much smaller, but they feel tiny in comparison.
Friday, May 19, 2006
And my "form" is coming along nicely. Yes, I'm still WAY out of shape, and I'm still slow, but I can feel progress. And I will absolutely be in better shape than last year! Yippee!
Rode the NoVa Thursday nighter last night and made a nice ride of it. The best part, though, was coming home and walking down the stairs and realizing that my quads were really sore after the pounding I given them on the ride. I haven't had that feeling in years. YEARS! I haven't felt strong in years. Do you hear me!? I'm so excited to finally be back on track.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
So...I went back through some old training diaries, looked at a bunch of pictures I had of my racing days, and noticed that I had a lot of success on a very old bike of mine - the Kenevans. A bike I had ditched partly because it was old and tired, partly because it was rickety (actually, downright scary) going downhill, and partly because I thought a different bike would be cool. So, in an experiment, I dug my old rickety "Kenny" out of the attic and rebuilt it. Even though it was as scary as ever, my legs felt great after rides. This is the bike I took to Oregon last year. Well, earlier this year, I went back to Landshark (who built the original replacement bike (and several subsequent bikes) for the Kenevans) and asked him to take the best of the Kenevans (the riding position) and blend it with the best of the bikes he had previously built for me: the stability, light weight, beauty, and "feel". When the "grey" Shark arrived (pictured below) I built it up with some trepidation and started riding it. Of course, being a Shark, it went downhill like a big autobahn-burning Mercedes. Fast, confident, bullet proof. Up until now, though, my fitness had been too bad to really determine if the riding position was "right".
That is, until Tuesday night. I rode a local race-ride, and started catching glimpses of the power my legs used to have. My legs actually hurt after the ride. I know that sounds weird - that I'm actually excited I made my quads hurt - but it's such an encouraging sign. I'm not fit yet, but at least now, the work I do will pay dividends...instead of just dropping down a bottomless hole.
Oregon should be GOOD for the legs.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
days. Nine days left. It's like waiting for Christmas when you're a 5 year-old. Sheesh, I haven't been this anxious in a long while.
Went for the Tuesday-nighter last night. Rode with the fast bunch and hung longer than I expected. I wonder what my endurance will be like when I get back from Oregon. I would like to think 400 miles in 4 days would whip me into some decent shape.
Here's another shot from Wolf Creek. This is right after the big descent off Wolf Creek Road proper, in an area that was clear cut between 1993 and 2004. This used to be completely overgrown. So much so that the road surface was covered with moss. Not any more, thankfully.
Monday, May 15, 2006
296 hours left. Give or take. I'm not anxious. Not at all. Can't you tell...?
The ride itinerary:
The big question (in my mind) for this year is whether we should tackle the "Upper Smith River Loop" the day after we hit Shotgun. It's a stunning ride, but it would mean riding two of Eugene's toughest rides, back to back. Totally different rides, and tough for totally different reasons: Shotgun's climb is the steepest thing I've ever ridden anywhere. My NatGeo "Topo" program indicates there's a stretch of Shotgun Creek Road that hits 34% for appx. 500 meters - with the rest of the road pitching upwards at between 14 and 24%. Not exactly a cakewalk. It absolutely takes every bit of strength in your legs to get up the beast. For reference 34% is steeper than any part of the "Brasstown Bald" stage of the Tour of Georgia.
Smith River, on the other hand, never really hits you that hard. It's a slow, steady drain of rolling hills, tough descents, and tight, narrow roads that demand your attention. Plus, by the time you think you're done with the climbing on Smith River and Elk Creek roads, you drop out onto Siuslaw River Road just in time to hit all the big climbs on Wolf Creek. So before youstart to climb out of Wolf Creek, you've already ridden 70 tough miles.
Smith River Rd, Shotgun Creek, and Elk Creek Rd are all Bureau of Land Management (“BLM”) roads. BLM roads are always tough to ride on because they’re not like “normal” roads. They're paved well, generally, but they're . . . different. They turn in odd directions, there are off camber turns, they take unconventional routes up and over and around obstacles and they’re narrow, overgrown and often graced with a furry-green strip of moss growing down the middle of the road. Finally, where Shotgun is relatively frequently traveled (if you can call less than 1 car per day “frequent”) Smith River is remote, and Elk Creek is as close to “lost in the woods” as any road in Oregon. I have ridden Smith River and Elk Creek probably 20 times, and I've never seen a car on either road. Add all that together, and Smith River is a big undertaking.
But, Smith River is in absolutely amazing ride. There's no ride I know of in Eugene that is as remote, or covers such isolated terrain but is still accessible by bike, without having to drive to the route. Depending on how roughly Shotgun abuses me, I think I’m voting for a “yes” for Smith River.
Friday, May 12, 2006
But to add to that misery, Campbell (of course) had plenty of power in reserve....and so did Randall. Which meant that I was the only one without anything in the legs. Being the pigheaded troglodyte I am, I took as many pulls as I could, until I bonked and then it was all I could do to simply find the draft, let alone stop drooling on myself. But, then, just as I thought I had won the battle against having to ride the last 5 miles alone, I noticed Campbell's normally tidy pedalstroke began to wobble. And then he sat bolt upright, almost like he was gasping for air...which was followed by, "Awwww....Jeez-uhs, Randall!" At this point, I was in such a daze, I wasn't thinking about anything at all. I was just thankful the pace had slowed...I had no idea what was coming. And then, almost like being suffocated by the dark cape of the Grim Reaper, this invisible, but impenetrably nauseating gas cloud crept around Campbell's upper body and rudely stepped into the draft behind his wheel. Suddenly, the thin little strand of hope I had been clinging to snapped. Broke off right in my hand. And it wasn't a physical barrier that had snapped. I had bonked - easily a half hour before this point. Nope, it wasn't physical, it was an emotional strand. The enormity of the crime Randall had committed was beyond my emotional ability to assimilate. I stopped pedaling and my breathing went from deep, controlled breaths, to lunging, heaving gasps, almost sobs. My lungs sucked in this awful musty tobacco scented mildewy filth that had an almost slimy-oily consistency to it. You could not only smell it, you could *feel* it....make that CHOKE on it.
Let's hope we don't have a repeat of that episode.
But, I guess the point of the story is, that any ride that can make me bonk, and THEN make me want to cry, has got to be an epic.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
I was surprised we pulled it off as well as we did. Arriving in Portland, not having seen these guys in almost 10 years, I didn't know what to expect. Fortunately, Randall was ultra-cool and within the first 30 seconds, it was like I had just gone to the store to pick up some beer. Ten years? Naw...Total time warp: Ten years disappeared in the time it took me to read his t-shirt.
After two days of the total luxury of Wolf Creek in 90-degree weather, we hit out for Shotgun Creek in typical "Eugene" weather. High clouds, light drizzle, and wind. Perfect weather for 90 miles and one climb. It's really hard to describe Shotgun Creek, because the ride is essentially 40 flat miles, punctuated by one short climb, a quick descent, followed by 4o flat miles. But, wow, Shotgun was everything I remembered: Severely steep, beautiful, isolated, wild. We had a great time. Some of the best footage from the entire trip was taken on the descent.
I only hope that this year I make it up the climb without that ridiculous tingling feeling in my forearms and calves....that comes from lack of oxygen.
Here's where we'll be staying: Best Western New Oregon Motel Here's another picture from Google maps: Motel
There are 2 Best Western motels on Franklin Blvd, so make sure you go to the right one. Dave.
Nothing fancy, but we have adjacent, ground floor, double Queen bed rooms. Parking at the door.
8 a.m. Saturday, May 27. Randall and the Virginia Contingent will be ready to roll. Too bad the SoCal contingent (ahem, Davanzo, ahem) couldn't drag his lumpy behind out of cushy SaMo to join us.
Rode home from work last night. I love the late Spring. Just enough heat in the air to make shorts and short sleeves comfortable, but very little humidity. I can feel small improvements in form coming along. Experimented with a slightly different pedal stroke while climbing seated: a slightly exaggerated heel drop, coupled with a slightly earlier than normal "scraping mud off your shoe" motion. I'm not fit enought or strong enough right now to notice any tremendous difference, but it felt slightly smoother - like I was working a different set of smaller muscles, instead of just the quads/hams. Long way to go to get fit.
Things are looking good this weekend. Got another 60 mile grunt fest planned. Exactly what I need.
The picture is taken along Siuslaw River Road, looking West over the Coast range. Wolf Creek area.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
was the first-ever Pingellian sufferfest. Modeled after the highly amusing, Campbellian crabfest from the mid 90's. Last year's event was sparsely attended: just me, Randall, and Campbell. This year we'll add one: My good buddy John will be flying out from Virginia to join us. He'll be an excellent addition. Anyways, last year, in 4 days in Eugene we had two days of stellar weather and two days of "Eugene" weather.
The first day in Eugene, Randall and I hopped on our bikes, rode from the motel through campus and wandered south, up and over Lorane Highway and into the valley. Not sure how ambitious we should be, I turned on the auto pilot, and we were shortly at the top of Wolf Creek. It's not very often that you find temperatures in the mid-90's in the Lorane Valley, so we continued and ultimately rode the entire loop, enjoying the heat. Instead of coming home the "normal" way, we rode up the back of Fox Hollow Road (where it intersects McBeth Road) before heading back down into town.
Before we started up the actual hill, I remembered flying up that hill in my big ring at the end of a stage in the Tour of Willamette in 1991. This year, I groveled my way up at my HR limit, struggling to turn the pedals in a 39x25. Ouch.
At the top of Fox Hollow there's a small bench hidden just off the road: "Bill's bench" reads the inscription. My Dad absolutely loves this spot. Whenever he would come up to Eugene to visit me at college, we would drive up there, grab a seat and look out over the simple beauty of Oregon's Coast Range. I'm not sure why, exactly, he liked that particular spot. It wasn't extraordinarily beautiful, in the sense that there are hundreds of other spots with similar views, but he did. So, when I go back this year, I'll take a picture of all of us on the bench and post it here, for my Dad to enjoy. Here's another picture of one of the amazing roads in southwest Lane County: This is "Elk Creek Road." If you know where that is, or if you've ridden that road, you are one of very few people who know why Eugene is such an amazing place for a cyclist.
The Pingellian sufferfest is approaching and I'm starting to get anxious...and nervous. I definitely want to be in better shape than last year. I suffered last year. And I would really like to be much stronger this year.
Rode 58 miles on Saturday at a moderate pace. Lots of grunt-climbing. A ton of fun. The bike felt great. I was generating power from the right place - after the ride my legs hurt in the right way, and in the right place.
Rode in to work this morning, and felt O.K. Legs are still a bit neutral. Can't decide if that's because I'm undertrained (obviously) or if my position still needs some tweaking. I still have power in short bursts, but nothing sustainable.
This picture is about halfway around Wolf Creek, on one of the smaller hills on Siuslaw River Road on the way to the little hamlet of Lorane. Almost exactly halfway through the ride. I'll have to remember to post more pictures of this road when I'm out there.